


Show 'Em Why They Call Me the Creep

by thisisapseudonym (just_kiss_already)



Category: Monster Magnet - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Monster Magnet, Oral Sex, Rock Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:18:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_kiss_already/pseuds/thisisapseudonym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyle idolizes Monster Magnet, especially the charismatic Dave Wyndorf, and just wants a souvenir from the show. He gets a lot more than he expected, obviously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show 'Em Why They Call Me the Creep

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhahaha this is sort of embarrassing, please don’t judge me. I just really love this band and have a huge girl-hard-on for Dave, lol. Oh my god, I hope he never ever ever finds this lol. No offense, man!!! Augh lol.  
> Ummm, un-beta’d. There was a name change for the OMC part-way through, so I hope I caught all instances but I’m not sure if I did :/. Thank you for reading!  
>  **For anyone curious about the band, try these songs: Negasonic Teenage Warhead, God Says No, Gravity Well, Hallelujah, Venus in Furs, 19 Witches**

Kyle slipped in past the half open door, heart hammering to burst from his chest. He had managed to slip past the venue staff and the folks from the opening acts somehow, but then again when you walk like you have a purpose people tend to let you be, even if you are a teenager with long coppery headbanger hair. Almost everyone in the bands all had long frazzled hair that swirled around their shoulders like dirty fog, so maybe he blended in.

The room was the biggest one, reserved for Monster Magnet, his favorite band. More scifi-infused heavy stoner-rock than metal, it drew a weird crowd of psychedelic dreamers and scowling bikers. But really they came for Dave. The leader singer and songwriter in the band, Dave certainly drew admiration from fans, but it went beyond that. His eyes were piercing, menacing but hypnotic, and his long aristocratic face and wiry muscled body, on display with loose ripped shirts and tight leather pants, were all to his benefit. When he sang, he howled and crooned and hissed, he stormed around on the stage, throwing his guitar around like a child having a tantrum before racing to the back of the stage to play with effects, creating bizarre echoing sounds like made you feel like you were falling into an orgy of distorted screaming noise. You couldn't stop watching him. His charisma was so potent that it flowed into the crowd like an aphrodisiac. Kyle had seen plenty of couples groping heavily in the darkened corners of the room while still staring intently at the performance.

Since Kyle was in high school, he'd been obsessed. He idolized him, wanted to be as impressive, as sexual and dark and mysterious as Dave was. He wanted to worship at the altar of his greatness, even if just for a minute.

Now, though, faced with the reality of having snuck into the band's room, he was utterly lost. He'd just wanted to see Dave, just for a minute, imagining he'd be dragged away by security before too long. In the room, the very room the band had been in before the show, the room that Dave himself had sat in, prepped in, gotten ready to put on the kind of performance Kyle had dreamed about seeing live someday, in this very room, Kyle had no clue what his next step was.

He didn't feel right taking something, though a part of him wanted desperately to find some kind of trophy, a physical totem of the time he stood where a musical god had once stood. Apollo himself, as it were.

A huge wooden table sat in the middle of the room with chairs haphazardly tucked under it. Across from the door was a low couch and against the far wall, a leather chair and ottoman. Water bottles, papers, random detritus of frenzied human activity floated around, along with discarded clothes.

Kyle recognized the shirt on the chair. Dave had been wearing it during the show. It was a loose tank top that had hung on the man's frame, barely covering his chest. Heart pounding again, Kyle walked over and fingered it, stirring the fabric with his fingers, curious. It was such a light material, silky almost, and slightly damp with sweat. Without thinking, slightly horrified, Kyle grabbed the shirt and sniffed it. It was rank, definitely, but he didn't mind the smell. It was Dave, this smell.

Tucking the shirt in his pocket, Kyle cast a quick glance at the door, expecting to be caught in the act but relieved to see no one there. What a nightmare that would have been to explain. This was enough. This amazing trophy, more than he could have hoped for, easily shown off and explained to friends without coming across as creepy, this was enough.

Thin but muscled arms wrapped around his arms and torso, pinning him, lifting him slightly off of his feet. He felt a laugh rumbling in the chest behind him. "You being naughty, baby?" crooned the dark voice behind him, teasing. Kyle whipped his head around and met Dave’s eyes, startled speechless. The man’s eyebrows shot up, surprised, but still deeply amused; he dropped the Kyle to his feet and took a step back, crossing his arms; he was dressed in clean jeans and a t-shirt, a damp towel draped over his shoulder from apparently cleaning up in the dingy restroom of the venue. Kyle just stood there like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, humiliated and terrified.

"The hair threw me off," Dave said in his lazy deep voice, smiling. He tossed the towel to the chair. "Plus it's usually chicks I find back here snooping with my shit in their pockets. So what else did you take?"

A blush crept up Kyle's neck, into his pale face. "Nothing," he said. This isn't how he'd imagined meeting his idol. He sincerely hoped he'd die right here and now.

Scratching his black goatee, Dave nodded. His hand dropped slightly and he began fingering the chain to the heavy metallic skull necklace he wore. “You want something else?” He took a step forward and Kyle, surprised, stepped back in tandem, confused. “It’s cool, man, I love my fans.” Another step forward, another back. “Anything you want, just say the word.” Another step. “How ‘bout it? You want something else?”

Kyle’s back was to the wall. This couldn’t be real. Was he imagining things, his adrenaline-soaked brain coming to some crazy conclusions? “I… I mean, I don’t-”

Dave tilted his head forward, his long black hair brushing against Kyle’s face. The slightest smell of sweat, some kind of cologne, cheap public bathroom soap. Without warning, feeling the intense heat coming from the musician’s body, Kyle’s dick swelled uncomfortably, pressing against his jeans. This was so wrong.

“How about my necklace? You like that? Could wear it all the time, think about me.” He pressed his palms against the wall on either side of Kyle, his cowboy boots planted firmly on either side of his feet. “You know,” he murmured in Kyle’s ear, “I’m always glad to see the fans back here, ‘cause performing gets me all riled up, you know? Gets your blood pumping, gets you hard. Like I said, it’s usually girls back here, but I’m not picky. Shy, nervous fan like you, all blushing… I’m not picky, man.”

“No,” Kyle managed to choke out, totally paralyzed.

“‘No’? That’s not what you meant to say, is it?” With the slightest motion, Dave pressed his hips forward, grinding against Kyle’s, drawing the slightest moan from the younger man. “C’mon baby, what better souvenir is there?”

Overloaded, mind shorting out, Kyle’s hand crept up of it’s own accord, shocking him. Tentatively he rested his palm against the man’s stomach, feeling the hard muscle beneath the thin shirt. A strong part of him wanted more, wanted to know what it would be like, was aching with curiosity. So much warmth radiated from Dave. At the touch, the man’s eyes closed and he smiled, tilting his head back, the tendons in his neck standing out in strong detail. Following his instincts, Kyle leaned forward and licked his neck.

Dave chuckled a little, said, “Good boy.” The singer’s hand came up and pressed against Kyle’s shoulder, pushing him down. “Go on,” he said, a slight edge of need twisting his voice.

The reality of the situation hit Kyle hard, waking him up from his stupor. All he had wanted was something to take home, to relive the concert. This was too much, too fast. As much as every molecule of his body strained towards the man in front of him, his mind--and his fear--caught him and held him like a snare. Turning his head away, he jerked his shoulder out of Dave’s grasp and ducked under his arm, sliding against the wall to get away. His legs felt like rubber, his every step was weak and wobbling. “I can’t,” he panted, trying to regain control over his treacherous body, to calm his steaming blood. “I can’t.”

Dave grabbed his arm, harshly, shaking him a little even as he pulled him close. “You can,” he said, the words layered with command, “and you will.”

Without warning his mouth was on Kyle’s, the rough brush of his facial hair making his skin burn as the man forced Kyle’s lips to part and his tongue dove in, furious, alive, wet and hot. Whatever strength or control Kyle had possessed was vanishing under the assault. Pain, suddenly, as Dave bit down on his bottom lip with a passion. Kyle looked up into the man’s eyes and saw the indomitable will of a man that always got his way. Of a god.

“You’ll do what I say, won’t you,” Dave said, all honey and velvet, but Kyle knew better than to trust that voice. “You’re gonna be a really good boy and suck me off, aren’t you? You’re not gonna leave me hanging.” He pushed Kyle back, sent him stumbling, reeling, landing on his ass on the couch. As Kyle tried to rise, Dave just pushed him back and climbed up onto the couch, facing the younger man, knees planted on either side of Kyle’s legs, his crotch right in his face.

And damn if he didn’t want it. He hated to admit it, but his body was screaming for it, for the touch of the musician, for the chance to feel him. To touch greatness. To pleasure his Apollo. As Kyle watched, defeated, excited, Dave undid his jeans and slid them down his ass part way. No underwear blocked the boy’s unimpeded view of his half-hard dick.

The sound of voices grew as people turned the corner of the hall, coming closer.

Utterly terrified, Kyle tried to look around Dave to the door, mortified, but the man grabbed a fistful of hair, jerking his head back into place. 

“They’re not coming in here, calm down, I’d recognize my own band’s voices,” Dave murmured, soothing. Letting go of the fistful of the young man’s hair, he stroked the side of his face, smiling benevolently. Leaning down, long hair swirling around Kyle’s face, glossy, fragrant, he said, “besides, I bet you’d like it if I let them watch, huh? Wouldn’t you?” Kyle felt his dick harden again, twitching eagerly at the suggestion. He was powerless before this man and somehow was beginning to relish the sensation. Sitting back up, Dave took his cock out of his jeans. “Open wide, baby,” he said, breathless, eager.

Hesitant, Kyle did as he was told, taking the tip of it into his mouth. He’d never been with another guy before, though sometimes he’d wondered about it, so he wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed. Porn was actually a pretty bad guide, he was smart enough to know that, but it was all he had to go on. Using his tongue, he swirled it around the head of the man’s dick, eliciting a rumbling moan from deep within the man’s chest; Dave’s eyelids drifted half-shut and his head tilted back. In response, Kyle’s breath caught in his throat with the sheer excitement it built up in him. Taking the dick in his hand, he started to bob up and down on it, slowly, sometimes running the tip of his tongue along the underside.

“Yeah,” Dave groaned, louder, not caring if anyone heard, and it thrilled Kyle to think that maybe someone would come find them. He took the cock deeper into his mouth until he started to gag slightly, provoking an even stronger response from the musician. Faster now, Kyle sucked him, keeping rhythm until Dave couldn’t take it and grabbed the back of his head, fucking his mouth. Kyle felt the man’s dick swell and harden before he felt his mouth filling with cum. It was an odd taste but he found he liked it, swallowing it happily.

Panting, Dave pulled back and buttoned himself up, glassy-eyed and pleased. “That was real good, baby,” he said, stroking Kyle’s hair affectionately. “At least for starters.”

Kyle blushed furiously, crimson-red, but couldn’t stop himself from smiling excitedly.


End file.
